“I don’t need judgment. I need a plan.” Dorian hit the intercom for Veronica.
“Brilliant!” Aiden resumed his spot in Dorian’s chair, leaning back and propping his feet on the desk. “I’ll be over here, popping the popcorn, watching your life implode.”
Veronica strolled into the office, her eyes bright and eager. “Ready for lunch? I was thinking we could try the new Thai place on—”
“Never mind lunch,” Dorian said. “I need to ask you a question. If you were a woman—”
“Seriously?” She popped her hands on her hips, glaring at him.
“Off to a stellar start, mate,” Aiden said. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”
Dorian shook his head, flustered. “What I mean to say is… If you were a woman who’d just started seeing someone new, and that someone wanted you to know he cared—not in an overwhelming way, but—”
“Big gesture,” Veronica said with a confident nod. “That’s the way to do it.”
“Gesture. You mean, like a gift?”
“Yeah, something to let her know you’re thinking of her. But not just any gift. It has to be meaningful—something you know she’ll appreciate.”
Dorian nodded, considering his options. “She did quite like the Ferrari. Maybe I should—”
“Ferrari?” Veronica laughed. “Bless your heart. You one-percenters are just adorable!”
“Too grand?”
“I was thinking flowers, not Ferraris. But hey, you do you. In the meantime, I’m ordering some Thai. And maybe a raise, since managing your love life is definitely not in my job description.”
Dorian watched her leave, his mind already percolating.
“She’s right, you know,” Aiden said.
“Yes—have HR put in the paperwork. Twenty percent ought to do it.” Then, with a new idea taking root, he grabbed his phone, grinned at Aiden, and said, “Wish me luck.”
Aiden laughed. “How about I wish you celibate? It’ll be much better for our bottom line.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Charley wasn’t sure if there was a patron saint of thieves and liars, but someone was definitely looking out for her.
It felt like a miracle. Ever since their meeting, Rudy and Travis had backed off, allowing her to work from home all week with no more than a few texts and check-in calls.
She suspected they were busy gathering more intel from Travis’ surveillance people, but she wasn’t going to ask. For now, she enjoyed the respite, spending quality time with Sasha—breakfast at Perk during Sasha’s morning shifts, to make sure Rudy stayed away. Fancy lunches in the city, courtesy of the credit card Rudy provided. And last night, she’d finally caved in to Sasha’s incessant begging for a vampire movie marathon, seeing the bloodsucking fiends in a whole new light.
It made her miss Dorian even more, and she felt horrible about dodging his calls and texts. She did want to see him again—as soon as possible—but she needed more time. Time to get a better handle on Rudy’s plans. Time to strategize. Time to decide what—and how—to confess.
Every time her phone lit up with his name, her insides went as fizzy as a glass of champagne, her body heating up as if he were there beside her, taking charge of her pleasure with every delicious kiss.
But for the time being, she had to keep playing her role, convincing Rudy she was still an asset.
Friday morning, she sat on her bed with her earbuds in, poring over the Ravenswood schematics. In her notebook, she’d made a list of some of the artwork she’d found, and now she marked off their locations on the floor plan with a red marker, deliberately leaving off the pieces from the stolen cache.
She’d just finished making the last few notations when Sasha burst into her room, a ball of sunshine and smiles.
Charley shoved her work under the bed and plucked out her earbuds, forcing a big grin. “It’s nine in the morning on your day off. Why aren’t you sleeping? Something must be up.”
“How did you not hear all that racket?” Sasha asked. “They’ve been setting up for twenty minutes!”
“I had my music on. Who’s been setting up?”
“Delivery guys.” Sasha grabbed her hands and hauled her off the bed. “Come on. You’ve got to see this.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Pretty sure Mr. Already Forgotten is not so keen on being forgotten.”
A spark of intrigue warmed Charley’s insides, and the minute she stepped out of her bedroom, the scent of roses enveloped her in a sweet, heady cloud.
“Holy roses,” she gasped, the sight nearly taking her breath away.
Hundreds. Maybe even thousands. She’d never seen so many roses in one place before—not even at a wedding. Deep reds, sunny yellows, fiery oranges—vases full of lush, gorgeous blooms lined the living room walls, set up on pedestals of different heights. The effect was incredible, like a vista of autumn hills in miniature.
It reminded her of the Catskills—the lookout point on Cole Diamante’s land where Dorian had bared his supernatural secrets.
Emotion tightened her throat, her eyes glazing with tears. It was crazy and over-the-top, but it was so damn beautiful it made her heart ache.
“Open the card!” Sasha bounced on her toes, handing Charley a cream-colored envelope. “The suspense is killing me!”
Grinning, Charley slid open the flap and removed the note.
Ms. D’Amico,
Now that I have your attention, I thought I might tempt you with another offer.
Option one: you refuse my gift, continue to ignore my calls, and thoroughly ruin my day.
Option two: you join me for dinner and a sleepover tomorrow night at my home in Tribeca. There’s one room in particular I’m dying to show you—a dark, secret place that’s perfect for my beautiful bad girl.
I promise it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced—not even in your wildest fantasies…
So… what will it be, love?
Option one, or option two?
“Well? What did he say?” Sasha tried to grab the note, but Charley quickly stuffed it in her bra, her cheeks already hot from the naughty promises laced in every word.
“That is none of your business.” She swatted Sasha on the butt and laughed, then scooted back to her bedroom for a some much-needed privacy.
“I don’t know who sent those flowers,” Sasha called after her, “but if you don’t call him right now, I will!”
“Don’t even think about it!” Charley teased, but she didn’t need further prompting. The roses were the last straw. There was no way she could go another day—another minute—without calling that crazy, ostentatious, ridiculously hot vampire.
He answered on the first ring.
“So you’ve received my invitation,” he said, his voice low and sexy in her ear.
“Option two,” she said. “Always option two.”
“I’m glad we’re in agreement, love. I’ll send Jameson for you at eight o’clock tomorrow evening. Wear something… comfortable.”